


Escaping the Still Air

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crisp mornings, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: If not for the events of Infinity War, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange’s might have met under very different circumstances. They might have befriended each other, in a time and place that didn’t involve having to save the universe.Slight AU, in that it ignores the events of Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War.





	Escaping the Still Air

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: crisp mornings
> 
> (Posting this now, I realise that I've barely mentioned the prompt, but that was what inspired it, so I'm still counting it.)

Stephen sighed as he was almost mowed down crossing the road. There were times when portals really did have an advantage over walking.

He tried to dismiss such thoughts as he entered the park, telling himself to focus on the nature around him. The morning was young, bringing with it a tranquility that would be lost as the park grew busier later in the day. His route was without destination; this walk was more an escape from the Sanctum’s still air than anything else, although he was hoping to pick up some breakfast at some point. And to return with some food up for Wong, of course, because otherwise he’d sulk for a week. Stephen laughed at the mental image. He complained about Wong until he was blue in the face, but he truly liked the man.

The slight chill in the air — it wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm — pushed him to a brisk pace. One advantage of the robes and cloak was that he was never cold; jeans and hoodies didn’t have quite the same effect.

Lost in thought, he walked for a couple of minutes without paying attention to his surroundings or the few other people in his vicinity.

“Hey!”

Suddenly, Stephen snapped back to reality. The shout had originated somewhere behind him. He couldn’t see the speaker, nor did he recognise the voice, but it felt like the yell had been directed at him.

He pivoted, pinpointing the source: a man jogging towards him, attired in head-to-toe black clothing and a questionable pair of glasses. He blinked and looked again, properly, and realised that the man wasn’t a stranger. They’d met before, to agree that they’d both keep doing their jobs and they’d stay out of each other’s way unless absolutely necessary.

“It _is_ you,” the man said as he stopped in front of him.

“Really? I hadn’t realised,” Stephen replied dryly. “Long time, no see, Stark.”

Tony was a little out of breath, but summoned a reply all the same. “It’s been a busy couple of months.”

He acknowledged his comment with a small noise in the back of his throat. “Are you not concerned about being recognised?”

By that point, Tony had regained full control over his breathing. “Not really. I mean, no one expects me to be here, so they don’t seem to see me. And it’s quiet at this time of day anyway.”

That made sense, Stephen supposed. People were odd like that. Not that it mattered to him — dressed down, as he was, he blended in well, and most people wouldn’t recognise him from his medical career anyway. The beard seemed to throw people off.

Tony had questions of his own. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking a walk.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I figured. Why here? There are other parks closer to your place, right?”

Stephen shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve always liked Central Park. When the tourists aren’t around, that is.”

“At least you don’t live in a tourist attraction,” Tony replied. “I agree with you, though.”

“Well, that’s what you get for sticking your name on a skyscraper.”

“It’s the Avengers Tower now, not the Stark Tower,” Tony countered in a defensive tone that suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d been asked.

“Hm.” Stephen’s barely-vocalised response was somehow both sceptical and judgemental.

“So. Did you want to…” Tony cleared his throat, sounding a little uncertain. “Grab coffee or something?”

Stephen, at something of a loss for words, raised his hands in a vague gesture of acceptance. “Sure.”

“Okay. There’s - um - a little place just up there.” He pointed down a path, into the centre of the park. “It’s just a stall, but the coffee isn't bad and there are chairs.”

Stephen nodded.

In a mutual silence that was somehow neither uneasy nor entirely comfortable, they walked the path that Tony had indicated.

It only took them a minute or so to reach the place he was talking about: a diminutive wooden hut with a counter and a large, reflective coffee machine. The hut was surrounded by a small flock of bistro tables, all of which were currently empty.

The first words that either of them spoke were to the man serving coffee, who looked tired enough to pass out there and then. He seemed to jolt awake as they approached and he recognised Tony.

“Morning,” Tony said.

“Uh - good morning, Mr. Stark,” the man said, cheeks colouring; Stephen wasn’t sure whether he was surprised, starstruck, or flat-out terrified. “Can I - can I get you something?”

“Yeah: latte for me, caramel chocolate frappuccino for him,” he said, with a perfectly straight face.

The man’s eyes widened a little. “Sorry, sir, we don’t-”

“Ignore him,” Stephen cut in, relieving the man of the horror of saying ‘no’ to Anthony Edward Stark. “I’ll have tea, please.”

Tony made a face that said _come on, you’re no fun_. Stephen pointedly ignored him.

“Right.” The man was clearly relieved and busied himself with the task of procuring their beverages.

Tony leant against the counter casually. Stephen found himself mirroring him.

Half a meter away, the coffee machine started up, making a sound almost identical to how Stephen assumed banshees wailed. He tried to suppress his cringing and focused on studying his counterpart instead. It seemed that Tony was doing the same to him — they ended up holding eye contact for an oddly long period of time, like they were school children having a staring contest, refusing to look away. Thankfully, their competition was soon interrupted by the arrival of their drinks.

“One latte and one tea.” The man set two cardboard cups on the counter, accepting the notes that Tony handed him in return. His voice became timid. “Could I have a photo? With you?”

Tony nodded vigorously. “Sure. Give me your phone?”

The man handed his phone over, flipping it into selfie mode.

Tony turned and lifted the phone, the man peering over his shoulder as he did so. He tilted his head, making sure he caught his best angle, and gave the camera his signature smirk. It was a perfectly on-brand photo.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, kid. What’s your name?”

“David.”

“Have a great day, David. Thanks for the coffee.”

David ducked his head, embarrassed but pleased.

“You handled that well,” Stephen commented as they seated themselves at a table, just out of David’s earshot. He genuinely meant it — Tony’s tact had surprised him.

“I’ve had practice,” Tony said, almost ruefully.

“Look, not to be rude, but it does seem weird that you’re here.”

Tony didn’t seem offended. “I hate treadmills.”

“Okay, but jogging hardly strikes me as your kind of thing.”

“It’s not.” Tony took a sip of his coffee. “But when you live in a tower of super soldiers and assassins...you gotta keep in shape somehow.”

“God. That actually makes me thankful for Wong.”

“Wong?”

“Lives in the Sanctum. Librarian. Hasn’t seen the light of day in the last two decades, so definitely doesn’t get on my case about exercising.” Stephen shook his head. “I mean, the guy gets on at me about literally everything else, but not that.”

“Does he have a facial hair situation too?” Tony gestured at his own chin.

“What?” Stephen was caught off-guard by the question. “No, he doesn’t. Wait — what do you mean by ‘facial hair situation?’ Do you have a problem with this?”

“Look, I’m just glad that I don’t have anyone else to compete with,” Tony said, lips curling into a grin. “Your situation is definitely giving mine a run for its money.”

“It’s doing more than that, Stark, and you know it,” he replied cockily.

Tony shook his head. “Lies. Anyway, has anything interesting happened since we last saw each other? Demons or genies or something?”

“No,” Stephen said, visibly swallowing his desire to correct him. “Nothing major.”

“Same here. No alien invasions, so I count that as a success.”

Stephen exhaled a short laugh. He was beginning see why Tony was renowned for his wit: it was less what he said and more the sarcasm with which he delivered things.

The conversation rambled from there, no purpose or urgency. They both relaxed, joking and talking seriously in equal measure. Stephen had spent his life disdaining interactions with most people, but this particular conversation was oddly energising. It was certainly correcting his initial impression of Tony. At their first meeting, he’d found him arrogant and loud, but he was becoming more and more convinced that that was just a front. In fact, Stephen only realised how long they’d been talking when he noticed that his coffee had gone cold and that there were several other tables full of people around them.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this, we should go before you get attacked by a marauding horde of fans,” Stephen noted, indicating a trio that were definitely eyeing Tony up. “Or the tabloids might start gossiping about you having coffee in Central Park with a handsome stranger. Then they’ll start knocking on my door.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Well, we can’t have that, Doctor.”

Despite his light tone, he heeded the advice, draining his cup and standing. Stephen rapidly followed suit.

As he adjusted his glasses, an idea popped into his head. “We should probably meet like this, right? Sometimes? Just to...keep track of what’s going on.”

Stephen nodded. "Probably."

“Where can I get hold of you? It’s not like there’s a page for wizards in the phone directory.”

He cracked a smile. “177A Bleecker Street. Make sure you knock. Wouldn’t want you to get sucked into a different dimension by accident.”

Tony looked faintly alarmed. “Yeah, let’s not.”


End file.
